


like holding on to burning coal

by cptsuke



Series: old guard coda [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:27:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29104047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsuke/pseuds/cptsuke
Summary: Joe's thoughts during the fight with Keane
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: old guard coda [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135418
Kudos: 78





	like holding on to burning coal

**Author's Note:**

> been sitting on 95% of this fic for weeks, alas what is writing

Joe can still taste the same awful aftertaste in his throat that he'd had in the van, his head feels a familiar foggy, somewhere he hears the grunt and oh, _oh_ , whatever concussive damage veils his mind lifts with the recognition of Nicolò's pained noises.

He's up before he even realizes it, barely registers what he's seeing (Keane standing above, advancing on Nicky, Nicky whose on the ground, curled around broken ribs),

Joe's up, fists swinging, he likes to think catching the asshole by surprise, gets a good hit, the edge of Keane's mask catches on his fingertips as he pulls it from his face, sends the flimsy piece of plastic and metal flying. See how he likes fighting with eyes burning half blind and lungs screaming for air.

He swings again, Nicky's getting up again, has there ever been a moment in the last 900 years Joe wasn't completely attuned to his love?

He feels desperation clawing up his throat, in his head images rising up quickly, Nicky laying still, so, so still, on the van's hard metal floor (feet shackled, hands cuffed cruelly tight, like they hadn't been fully unconscious), the moment everything went black at the safe house, he can see in his mind's eye Nicky's head whipping up as the door blasts in, the grenade going off, the shot that burst through his chest, Nicky's face, oh sweet, sweet Nicolò's lip curling in anger even as the gas started choking him, desperate to get to his side even as the strength from his legs from his body was robbed, death taking him as Nicky coughed and choked just out of reach.

The still open raw wound of being strapped to a gurney, forever out of touching distance, the pain of having to listen, having to watch Nicolò tortured, the agony of having to see the anguish in his eyes when it was Joe's turn.

He feels like all he can hear is his heartbeat roaring in his ears and swings his fist again, Keane dodges, off balance Joe doesn't have time to block. Already too tired, exhausted, already too late, the first punch comes quickly but, the second one lands while he's still trying to recover from the first. And he can't breathe, he can't breathe, he chokes. Worse than gas, worse than the concussion grenade, Joe falls to his knees, hands around a ruined throat, he can't do anything but desperately will it to heal.

Nicky's stumbling back upright, moving so slowly and, oh, how his heart hurts to know how hard it is to be knocked down and still get back up, but he can't breathe, he's on the ground trying to drag breath through ruined airways, his eyesight blurring as his body, while the wondrous, monstrous mystery that's brought him back to life for a millennia triages and attempts to heal up his most important functions. Joe's dimly aware of the shape of Keane, the angry line of his shoulders as he advances on Joe, the sharp movement as he goes for his belt, oh he isn't going for the capture anymore, smart, he's finally learning, Joe thinks inanely as he blinks blurred eyes.

Is this how it ends?

Will he wake tied down again?

Where was Andy?

Nile?

Booker?

He's never felt so alone, just him and Nicky after so long with a family to fall back on. He doesn't understand.

His throat rattles with a truly terrible noise, and he pleads to Allah that he heals, that he doesn't die and wake up in this place again, that he heals quickly enough to get back up and in the game. Keane above him and he doesn't have any strength to do anything but watch as he pulls his gun.

But then Nicky's there.

There's something of the half feral crusader Joe had faced a millennia ago in his movements, no co-ordination, none of the grace that Yusuf so loves to watch. Instead Nicky's face is all desperation as he latches onto Keane's arm, pulls the gun away from where it had been aiming for Joe, pulls Keane's attention from where Joe is choking on the ground. He draws a breath, feels something crunch in his throat, the pain of the healing floors him almost as much as the original wounding and his vision goes a perfect black for a moment too long. Nicky grunts beside him, a sharp inhale then a very loud gunshot.

Footsteps stumble away, getting quieter and quieter but Joe can't hear it, can't hear anything but the shocked ringing in his ears and the deathly silent room. He takes his first full breath and suddenly it feels like he can't find any air again.

On the ground,

_N_ _icky_ ,

he skids across the rubble strewn floor,

_N_ _icky,_

he goes to reach out, to touch, to reassure and suddenly his hand freeze, suddenly he's terrified

(Andy bleeding - bleeding - the bruises on her skin where he's never seen anything but unblemished flesh)

This can not be the end.

How long has it been? Too long, Nicky's so still, worse than the van, he can see all the brilliant parts of Nicky's beautiful brain spilling out in a grotesque halo around his ruined skull.

Why are his eyes still unseeing and glassed over? Its been too long. Is this the end? Was Andy just a herald? Was Booker? Had that doctor done something?

Nicky's not moving and Joe's reaches out, his hands moving automatically, a thousand years of habit, a thousand years of cradling Nicky's face in the palm of his hands. And he stalls. Can't bring himself to touch, to feel cold clammy skin, to feel the heat drain away as his blood pools on the floor.

He can't.

He can't do this alone. He's not going to survive this, Nicky promised, he promised, they'd go together, in that tone of his, that steadfast, impossibly sure tone that demanded no argument, they'd go as they'd been born into this life.

Together, always together,

So why won't he wake up? It's been too long.

(it's been seconds, a moment)

He can't look at Nicky, but looking away feels worse, like a betrayal and as he looks back,

_a gasp._

And Joe's almost collapsing with relief, he's never going to breathe again.

Hands lift, reaching out before thought and Joe's moving before he realizes it, hands gripping and grounding as Nicky's hands wrap around his arms. his eyes are open, blinking as he comes back, as he slowly comes back to Joe.

Joe wants to collapse into him, wants to lay down on the ground and wrap himself so tightly around Nicky that they're one person.

Nicky blinks, coming fully awake and his grip is loosening and Joe, oh, his heart breaks.

_Andy,_ Nicky says. He's letting Joe go and Joe has to let him go.

Joe's hands squeeze once more without his permission, Nicky's right, they have to keep moving, his sleeve tugs as Nicky's hands spasm as he pulls away, the tiniest of movement that tells him the Nicky is also fighting the need to touch, to hold, to reassure, to just keep contact. Joe's heart swells even as he groans as he collects a gun from the rubble.

They can't leave a mortal Andy to fight with a newby (no matter how much marine experience Nile might have had, it's probably not storming office buildings in the heart of London) or Booker, possibly still looking to die.

Nicky gets up quick enough but his feet are unsteady in their steps, slower than usual and stumbling, his shoulders hunched over as the back of his head remains a glistening mess of blood and viscera. Joe pats at him, a moment of touch, as he skips ahead, takes the lead. He keeps an eye on the way Nicky sways for a moment before shoring himself up, but there's nothing he can do for it now, they can only keep moving forward.

Joe checks his magazine, pausing at the door and taking a steadying breath as Nicky presses up against the other side of the doorway. Their eyes meet and - _oh_ – a thousand years will never be enough to describe - to appreciate - every steadfast emotion in Nicky's eyes.

He nods, is rewarded when Nicky nods back in turn with the slightest uptick of his mouth. The smallest idea of a smile, brighter than a thousand suns, Yusuf can survive this, can survive the changes, the upheaval to their family that is surely coming. As long as the two of them remain together.

As long as its Joe and Nicky,

Yusuf and Nicolò.

Together, always together.

  
  



End file.
